


Soft Lit Passion

by Real Life Inspires (Teddy_Feathers)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Business major, F/M, stripping for college
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-05-29 15:44:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6382630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teddy_Feathers/pseuds/Real%20Life%20Inspires
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thinking Grillby is a bit straight laced. Proper. Too bad his first meeting with you is when you gave him a lap dance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Probably terrible but its late and I'm trying not to be miserable. so silly ideas it is. Set up here, slightly more interesting things next chapter.

Humans tend to think of fire as angry or flashy. They describe it as roaring, raging, crackling, blazing. It lights up a room and warms the night but it is considered a destructive force - life giving yes but at a high price. Prometheus, pilgrim wives, the victims of the Spanish Inquisition, and so many more stand in testament to the damage fire can enact upon the human body. From a young age they are taught not to emulate the moth, not to touch the fire's warm beauty. Some learn this lesson faster than others. \ Some must touch the fire to learn that it burns.  
  
But fire is mesmerizing, alluring, tempting... Humans are equally fascinated by its swirling colors and shifting light, by the protection and violence it offers hand in hand...

It is understandable then, that when monsters returned to the surface they were not most afraid of the ones that looked like eldritch creatures, large predators, easily concealed rocks or slimes, of the ghosts or the gooy amalgamations. These they had faces and names for, an understanding or ignorance of their capabilities. No... Humans looked the most askance at those who welded flame, who's very existence is a well known and feared threat. Their caution was perhaps understandable, as monsters had a different cultural understanding of harm, being made of magic instead of flesh.   
  
That one old flame gave the Human authorities the least amount of trouble, but the most confusion was some what amusing. A veteran from a war humanity no longer remembered, now a simple barkeep. There was no telling what baffled them most. The fact the 'man of fire' was wearing clothes, that he worked around and served highly flammable liquid, or that he was near sighted.   
  
But Grillby had been around since Rome burned and had long ago accustomed himself to pacifying the fears of man. Those learned skills of patience were dusted off and put to use as the human government made sure he was thoroughly educated in fire safety, loaded down with three times as much safety requirements to open his business on the surface, and told him more about what different levels of heat would do to the human body than he had learned through trial and error during the war.   
  
He wasn't an angry fellow by nature despite the human's belief. He waited, filed paperwork, exchanged his collected gold pieces for paper money and a monthly statement, he got to know the three local 'firemen' protection squads for both his own safety and theirs, and finally, _finally_ , he was allowed to open his bar on the surface.   
  
The interior was a mix of dark and light hard wood coated in a glossy varnish, the bar had seating on three sides, the back wall held shelves and shelves of substances that hadn't even been conceived of before the barrier rose, new taps that didn't leak spray or drip, a fully furnished kitchen that was just as big as his floor space in the main room, there was even an apartment above the place.    
  
Everything was definitely worth the wait. Humans may think that fire was wrathful, but it was always changing and seeking for life. A hearth. This was his. He never wanted to leave, home body that he was.  
  
Of course he did anyways. There was surface day every year, where all the monsters, their ambassadors, and all the human friends they had begun to make, got together outside Mt. Ebbot and celebrate the day the barrier fell. And occasions like this where close friends had a social event he couldn't escape.    
  
This current one being Papyrus' bachelor party. It had started well enough at his bar, everything on Sans tab (which was somehow always had the exact amount needed paid into the register before the skeleton had even walked in the door) with drinking games and the telling of tall tales, teasing and the like. Despite being the bartender it was made clear to him that he was a long time family friend and he would be going with them all as the party pub crawled home or what have you... And despite the amount of alcohol consumed they made good on their word and forcibly dragged him from behind the bar and made him the designated driver - alcohol having no effect on him as it burned away as he drank it.    
  
Eventually they ended up at this... _Establishment_.... The real problem with being a flame is that he couldn't exactly find a dark corner to hide in, so he propped himself against a wall and tried to stay inconspicuous all the same. He was not angry, but he might have been a bit embarrassed. His flames flicked quickly, eye catching but the humans respected his personal space because of it and the monsters all knew he'd rather be left out of things.   
  
When one of the inebriated humans caused a ruckus he practically leapt at the opportunity to escort him home. It was troublesome that he had to return, but the skeleton brothers were perhaps his closest friends. He could suffer one night of indignity indulging them especially on such an occasion. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably terrible. But I needed to write something. lied though sorry dance next chapter.

Looking over the slightly intoxicated club you grin. It was your baby and you were so proud of how it had all come together. You had been training as a fill in manager for weeks at Fantasies, but this was your first solo run. A mixed group of humans and monsters had rented out the place for a bachelor party and you had taken their - rather strange - requests and ran with it.

A spaghetti buffet was set up along one wall in chafing dishes over Bunsen burners to keep warm. The strippers who had wanted to work the party, human and monsters alike, agreed to come in a bit early to be rubbed down in glittery body oil. The, admittedly limited, clothing was silvery and metallic looking. Interspersed with the regular playlist were Mettaton hit singles. They had games planned throughout the night. Childish things that took a new light when playing with very adult entertainers: twister, limbo, charades, pin the ‘you-know-what’ ‘you-know-where’.

The guest of honor seemed to be enjoying himself, if the orange glow to his cheeks was any indication. Everyone else seemed to be having a pretty decent time as well, though no telling if that was due to the liquid courage they had imbued before arriving or because of the sensual and somewhat silly entertainment. Not to say there weren’t a few snags. One of the humans the group had brought got a bit too crude with his insinuations and he was told in no uncertain terms this was not _that_ kind of strip club. The designated driver ended up taking the man home early. Thank god.

Another situation seemed to be brewing. A small yellow woman was enjoying one of the table dancer’s attentions, but if the hard staring was anything to go by her significant other wasn’t too happy about it. You sashayed over to the tall woman, stood on tip toe, and whispered in her fin. “We’re just whetting her appetite. So she’s extra hungry for dinner when you get home.”

A yellow jealous eye turned to fix on you and you were, not for the first time, glad for your heels. Nothing like a lover scorned to make a half-naked woman feel small. Gesturing to a well-muscled horse man, you continued to try and smooth things over. “After she clears the table, why don’t you and Mr. Macho here get up on there and have a flex off.” About that time Miss Fortune finished her set. You all but chased the woman onto the table with Aron. “Remind her what she’s getting for dinner.”

At first it didn’t seem like the red head was going to go for it, but one of her friends let out a wolf whistle “Go Udyne! Show him who’s got the sexiest muscles!” And the woman’s face split in a predatory grin. The two began showing off, and it looked like the dinosaur lady knew exactly what she wanted. You were just happy that you had caught it in time before things got ugly.

You did your rounds of the room, making sure the performers rotated out and got their breaks. Everything had been paid for ahead of time, generously so, and while you understood working for tips you also knew the value of pacing yourself. You had started out at the bottom of the heap and worked your way up, were still in fact using this job to pay for a college education, but resting now meant no missed work days in the future. Some gave you attitude others gratitude for your efforts, but overall everyone knew how much you were risking on this night. The club owner and manager would be going over the security footage with a fine tooth comb. This was your first real test to see if you could handle it, or if they needed  to start training someone else for the position of secondary manager.  

A patron flagged you down, and your practiced smile grew warmer as you picked your way over to him. It was the brother of the groom, the man bankrolling this whole affair, and out of everyone here tonight he seemed the most pleased. He motioned to a private booth along the wall, where their designated driver had parked himself. Throughout the night his body language said he didn't want to be here, so the entertainers had avoided him. It didn't help that even now the flames coming from his head flickered agitatedly, a swirling mess of red, orange, and yellow.

But the short skeleton asked for two songs worth of dance for him, and making the customers happy was the name of the game. If you got lucky he'd calm down with someone in his lap. From what you'd gathered over the years since monsters had resurfaced, they weren't really interested in the body presented to them exactly, so much as the intent behind the offering. Besides the variety of genders and species of the dancers, the reason Fantasies was doing so well is that no entertainer lasted that long if they didn't on some level enjoy their work and want the customers to have a good time.

So you glided across the room, making the well dressed man your priority and letting the background worries of the night fade. Just because he hadn't been drinking, didn't mean he shouldn't be having a good time. Lets see if you can get him hot and bothered in much more enjoyable ways.       


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really just a lazy indulgence...Sorry if its terrible.

He'd managed to acquire booth on his return, secluded enough that even with his flames flickering in agitation, he was less noticeable and therefore less likely to be dragged into anything.   
  
Or so he thought.

Intent washed over him. Humans had such strong souls, and this one was focused entirely on him. 

Grillby turned to face her, the scantily clad woman gliding towards him, unable to do anything but stare.   
  
She reminded him of his musings on humanity of fire. Of moths and flame. For once he was not the will of the wisp leading the unwary, but instead the hapless fool wanting to touch this beautiful thing that wanted to eat him alive.   
  
Her soul was no more malevolent than the fire from which he sprang. It was warm and wild, and inviting. She drew closer and the feeling of being drawn in intensified. He could feel her desire to lure out his own wild side, to release the hearth fire and dance in the bonfire it created.    
  
He blinked and it seemed she simply appeared in his lap.

His hands on her hips to hold her steady and against him as she began her dance. And while the press of her body, and the roll of flesh and muscle in top of him was alluring to the eye and body he was fixated on her eyes and the glimpses of her soul within. 

  
She didn't hesitate to touch him or let him touch her.  She saw him as another man, a man who was wound up tight and she wanted to help him loose control, see him blaze with desire. It was more than a game or a feeling of power. It wasn't about her at all, but him.    
  
He could feel something stirring in him as she danced and moved on him, her hands trailing lightly over him, coyly untying his bow tie. He wanted this. He wanted to reach out and pull out her soul. 

To consume what she offered and more.    
  
She danced and smiled and touched and her soul flickered brightly in her eyes daring him to let go... She was playing with fire and he liked it.   
  
His face burned hotter, turning a glowing shade of blue.  The flames that had licked his form so wildly before now slowed and pulsed with the yearning of his soul and the rhythms of her body. He let his hands wonder from her hips to feel the smoothness of her skin, the sting of her sweat, and the shape of her curves.    
  
This was something he should not touch, but something in him wanted to risk the pain of learning. This was a fantasy, he hadn't known he'd wanted. Fuel for the flames that gave him life, a reason to keep burning, someone to light up the night for. This was a taste of what the moth had before he was engulfed.   
  
She moved in time to the music, but his soul flowed in time with hers.   
  
Too soon it was over, and the pain was everything he knew it would be. Her soul was tucked back down inside her, the emotions that had driven it too intense for to last long between strangers. She sat straddling him, head resting on his shoulder as she tried to catch her breath from the strength of what they shared.   
  
He could feel himself burning brightly from it, flames moving quickly again. No longer dancing in time with her, now racing with an energy - a longing to continue to consume, consummate this intensity they had shared for just the span of a dance.    
  
"That's never happened before... Guess you're really pent up." Her breathing was uneven, her voice husky with desire, and he knew _he_ had caused this. Before he could act on the impulse, the need to finish what they had started a cry rang out for a toast.    
  
The woman stood and helped him to his feet, her face a practiced look of service as she escorted him to the rest of the group.   
  
The moment had passed, the passion inside of him was banked for now... But he still longed to reach out and touch what he could not have.

* * *

The party was a success all around,  your bosses were impressed and gave you the promotion you'd hoped for, and even your classes were going well.   
  
The only problem was that you couldn't forget him. 

It was just supposed to be another dance, another man - made of fire or not - who needed to relax. He was not the first monster you'd danced for, you knew you cared about your customers' pleasure in the dance and that monsters responded to that.    
  
You hadn't ever felt anything like that before though. It was like he fed off of that pleasure you offered, intensified it,  you'd been doing this too long now to respond so strongly to someone finding you attractive. Of course you were attractive. You worked at it and it was a uniform as much as any other. But you had wanted him to want you, to enjoy the dance and the illusion of intimacy.    
  
For you though it hadn't felt like an illusion. It had felt personal, while you danced you felt like his warmth had worked its way around your heart and danced with you. Burning you up inside that had nothing to do with fire and everything to do with want. He wanted you and you liked it.    
  
You tried to shake the feeling, focus on school and your new responsibilities... But you wanted to see him again. He hadn't showed up - on the nights you worked or the ones you didn't. The feeling of connection had to be in your head.   
  
Many girls had confused lust with love. You hadn't spoken to him, didn't know him really, but you felt like you wanted to - needed to really. It was more than the thought of seeing him come undone underneath you. It was the feeling that you could spend the rest of your life sharing silence with this complete stranger and have said all that needed to be said in a glance.    
  
No one believes in love at first sight, not really. But there was a spark, a possibility that you wanted to explore, to chase.   
  
He never returned and how could you blame him?  You don't find love in a lap dance. You don't really share eternity in a song or two. And had he returned you would have let go of the feeling, the silly crush on a strangers libido. But he didn't, so you allowed yourself the fantasy. Even as work and school continued on, a small part of you never left the moment you let your soul be consumed by flame. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> started doing research on the lives of real strippers. Got kinda intimidated. For something that's supposed to be fun and overly dramatic and slightly sensual... it sure got to be an intimidating project quickly. 
> 
> I realize this is a bit disjointed and jumps back and forth... Like I said at the beginning though. This is more or less for fun and I'm not taking it as seriously as I should be. Sorry to disappoint.
> 
> anywho if you care or if you don't here you go.

He felt it when she walked into his bar. Like a sudden gust of wind that stirred banked embers. Grillby kept polishing the glass as if he hadn't noticed. It was a big city full of bars but his was the only monster bar. Many people walked in for that reason alone.

No matter what his foolish emotions wanted he kept his soul banked.

He didn’t look up until she was standing before him. She looked different. It wasn’t the amount or style of the clothes she was wearing, nor something as simple as her hair being pulled back.

No.

It was a flicker in her soul that almost answered his, a lick of flame in her eyes before going dormant.

He kept the flames on his head steady and his manner professional through long practice. This was his place of work, his livelihood, a respectable establishment... And a highly incendiary place. He refused to let himself play the game of fuel and fire for a fling with a human. He had more control than that.

Besides, he couldn't even feel it smoldering under the surface. The fleeting sense of connection could have been imaginary... Now she felt as inert as dirt.  

Instead he tilted his head to the side inquiringly, and his unofficial translator kicked in.

"He says what'll it be toots? Grillbz has everything from top shelf liquor to crude oil."

His hair flickered a bit in exasperation, as if he would ever refer to anyone as 'toots' but he let the question stand.

She smiled, as bright as electric light and just as devoid of warmth, before pulling some papers out of her bag.

* * *

 

You hadn't known he'd be here. It was a big city, and there were plenty of monsters in it... And you had walked right into the establishment he owned.

Figures.

At the sight of him you felt a flicker of something in your heart. He was wearing a similar outfit to _that_ night. A back vest, a white button up shirt, and a dark red bowtie. It looked good on him, showed off his physic well and... You stamped down on that trail of thought.

You were a professional dammit. You wouldn’t let a bit of lust get in the way of that.

He hesitated when you walked up to the bar, you had plenty of experience reading the signs of recognition - the tightness of his shoulders, the pause before setting down the glass. The hair flickering was a new tell, but from your limited experience fast probably meant agitation.

Maybe you wouldn’t get your interview from him.

The paper required a primary source about immigrants who had opened their own businesses and you had hoped to do your paper on monsters. It was interesting and while monsters were sensationalized on television, it was a safe bet that the reality didn’t line up.

The obviously drunk merman spoke up and you looked between the two wondering how he was translating if the flame man wasn’t making any obvious attempts at communication. He had only tilted his head, some of that had to be exaggeration.

You put on your professional smile and pulled out the questions you had prepared, he hadn't kicked you out… or hit on you. So long as you kept the subject on entirely business there was no reason why you couldn’t get your interview. You were both adults. While you had never given a lap dance to a fire monster before, you had given plenty to both humans and monsters before and since his.

You could move past this like mature individuals.

Okay so more often than not men weren't mature about this sort of thing, but the paper counted for half of your grade, you had already had it outlined, and you had heard the horror stories from those who had the bright idea to interview Miss Muffat or Mettaton over the years. It was this, a park ice cream vender, or doing more research on monster run businesses in the area.

The bar was clean so you slid across the questions before going into your already prepared spiel. You were attending such and such school, taking such and such class, and would like to interview him if he had the time to answer a couple of questions.

He stared at the paper, or at least his glasses were pointed that way, and picked up a glass to polish again.

The fire on top of his head slowed some and you supposed he was thinking about it. Hope rose in you and you forgot for a moment that he had been one of your Johns. If anyone had an unbiased account of how being a monster "immigrant" had affected his business a bar would. You could pull records of other bars in the area, compare numbers of startup reaction, take into account the popularity of the area. While it meant more research, the paper practically wrote itself.

Which seeing as you were going to work and school full time, it’d be nice to have _something_ done easily.

* * *

He looked over the paper filled with neatly typed questions and follow up questions. It seemed harmless enough.

Like the sun peeking out of the clouds he got a sense of her again. He tried to ignore the way his soul crackled in response.

He was an old flame, mature and stable enough not to go chasing after every little thing that draw his attention. She was passionate... But she was a child in comparison.

Never mind how they had met in far from innocent situation. That had no bearing on the present.

Humans burned quickly, burned brightly, and then burned out.

He could feel the excitement radiating off the girl in front of him. Despite not being directed towards him and he gathered that this was simply some project of hers and nothing to do with the circumstances of how they met.

That was acceptable.

* * *

 

Her mouth tingled. She licked her lips, biting first the top and then the bottom trying to ignore the sensation. It almost felt like…

No, it _definitely_ felt like she wanted to kiss him. Her tongue slid along the roof of her mouth and then along the backs of her teeth. It was like being thirsty, or hungry. A craving to taste him. To drink in his tongue, nibble his lips, devour his warm breath.

She took a deep breath of her own and let it out slowly.

Hormones she wanted to say, but it wasn’t exactly. It had to be him. Anyone else would only intensify her desire to press herself into him, make her need satisfaction more. The craving wasn’t to kiss or be kissed, it was to melt her mouth against _him_.

He slid her paper back to her, answers written with beautiful loops in neat lines, snapping her out of her distraction. She realized with a hint of embarrassment that she’d been staring at him, not through him but at him, for quite some time without saying anything. If he noticed it didn’t show.

In fact he’d been nothing but respectful of her despite how they’d met. She needed to move on; really he hadn’t once given her any indication that he was at all interested in her since she’d walked in. Physically or otherwise. That was a sting against her pride, but that was life.

Move on she told herself firmly. Fire burns, right? Besides who knew if fire monsters and humans could even do anything? A part of her whispered he had touched her, and she wouldn’t mind just curling up against him as they watched the rain or something equally mundane… but again this was all just a silly fascination that would pass.

She refused to treat him to the sort of behavior she’d been subjected to – obsession and the demand to trade a personal fantasy for an unwanted reality.

As it was dark and she was alone, he walked her out to the parking lot. Apparently he was as much a gentleman as he looked. The tugging ache in her chest increased as she pulled away, looking in the rear view mirror she saw him lift one hand in a wave.

How she wanted to make that simple gesture meaningful… but she knew better. There was no connection there. Just a silly crush. Everything else was all in her head.

* * *

 

A fool. He was a fool.

Still he felt the ache of her leaving. He wanted her still and the longer she’d lingered nearby the stronger that desire grew. He wanted to feel her. Under his hands, with his soul, physically, mentally.

He’d drawn out the process of answering her rather mundane questions about his business and its reception. Shouldn’t have, but despite sitting across from him she’d felt miles away and he couldn’t reconcile that feeling with the intense woman he’d met before.

Then she began thawing, as if she’d just come in from a winter storm and being close to him had melted away the cold. It was hard to keep his hand steady as he wrote, hard to focus on being clear and concise.

Warmth. She had a heat all her own and even as she slowly began to glow inside beside him, he felt his soul answer.

Oxygen. He could suck in all he wanted and grow only needier for her.

That moment he finished he hesitated. It was the telling moment where he sat between giving in and pulling her close and shoving her away. What he wanted to do was to hold her close – across the bar if necessary – hold her and consume everything she offered.

But he was an old flame. He knew better than to make people – especially passing strangers – into a hearth. Grllby had a hearth, a home, in this bar. The spark inside of him needed to be smothered before this got out of hand.

He walked her to her car, intent on letting her go and yet lingering as if she were the fire and he were about to return to the winter storm. As she pulled away he felt the ache in him grow sharp and he lifted his hand as if to call her back… and then dropped it.

No. Green wood doesn’t sustain a fire.

He felt the loss of her personal warmth all the same. It was just a passing fancy he told himself, but Grilby didn’t really believe it.

 


End file.
